No Absence of Dreams
by Yati
Summary: Lulu and Yuna, on Yuna's decission to become a summoner. [ Pregame ]


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_Author's Note: Set somewhere just before the start of events of FFX. _  
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For some reason, Lulu is not surprised to find Yuna sitting on her bed when she enters her hut. 

The twilight colours the darkening sky of Besaid with a muted gold and crimson, and in the half-light she could see the curve of Yuna's shoulders as she stares off into the sunset, her summoner's staff propped against the wall. When Lulu stands at the doorway, her shadow falls on Yuna, and she could barely see the younger girl as nightfall slowly claims the last rays of the setting sun. 

"Would you mind if I stayed here tonight, Lulu?" Yuna's voice is hesitant, as if she expects a reprimand for her actions. Lulu stares at the darkness gathering around them for a long moment and slowly shakes her head. 

"I thought you would have wanted to spend the night meditating at temple," she says instead, a subtle reminder of what Yuna has decided to undertake come sunrise the following day. 

She hears Yuna shift -- a quiet rustle of cloth and a gentle tinkle of her bracelets as she rearranges her skirt. "I . . . should," Yuna admits, "but I'd . . . rather not." 

She is slightly surprised at Yuna's sudden deviance from concentrating on her duties, because there are times when Lulu is sure that all that matters to Yuna is pleasing everyone -- and one way to please them is for Yuna to be who everyone expects her to be. And Yuna tries so hard, and expects nothing from anyone in return. Lulu says nothing of this to the girl, however, and instead watches the way the twilight creeps along the walls of her small dwelling, and the way it dances in Yuna's eyes. 

The stars are beginning to appear in the night's crest, sparkling diamonds strewn into layers of velvet. Beautiful, yet distant somehow, and completely uncaring. It's the same sky and the same stars anywhere, be it here or Zanarkand. Lulu contemplates this for a while and is startled when Yuna suddenly speaks. 

"They say that you can read your destiny in the stars." Yuna's voice is wistful, laced with something akin to hope. "Do you believe that, Lulu?" 

"There's no straight path for you to drift through," Lulu says as gently as possible. "Fate can bring you only so far. The rest is up to us." Odd words to say, Lulu ponders, when 'fate' seems to be a word that goes hand in hand with 'Sin'. Their fate lies in Sin's hands, in the eternal spiral of death and destruction. But still . . . . "We write our own destinies, Yuna." That is one thing she believes -- has to believe -- to be true. 

"So the ending's not written yet?" Yuna's whisper is the cadence of the wind, fragile and light, and it sounds strangely ethereal. 

"No," she says firmly, knowing what end Yuna sees. Even after all these years, she could not quite accept what this slight girl who is more than a sister to her -- more than anything, perhaps, in this world where nothing is constant except for Sin and the lapping of the waves on the unending shores -- is so earnestly striving for. "The ending's still far away, Yuna. You can still choose another dream, another path to follow." 

The hut is completely dark now. She cannot see Yuna's face and the girl is too still for Lulu to judge her reaction to another plea for her to abandon her destiny. Lulu doubts that it will work. She has tried too many times before. 

"At night, when you sleep . . . what do _you_ dream about, Lulu?" Yuna's voice is quiet, barely heard amidst the song of the crickets and the distant crash of the waves upon the coast. 

Lulu finally lights up the kerosene lamp, and Yuna is no longer a silhouette in the darkness. Lulu can see her know, huddled on the bed, hugging her knees and resting her chin on them. The flame lights Yuna's delicate features with an otherworldly grace, and the girl looks distant, thoughtful. 

"Dream? Well . . . nothing in particular, I guess," she says slowly, settling on the rug on the floor. She rummages through the bureau drawer and pulls out a spool of thread and a sewing needle. "Dreams are just dreams, Yuna," she chastises, not unkindly, and the apprentice summoner bows her head. 

"I wonder," Yuna murmurs thoughtfully. Her eyes wander towards the door of the hut, straying towards the temple. The oil lamps are burning brightly tonight. Lulu will not be the only one praying until the first glimpse of dawn. "But you must dream about _something_, Lulu." 

What was with the girl's sudden interest in dreams? Lulu's eyebrows come together in a slight frown as she threads the needle and starts to sew on the torn pom-pom back to her moogle doll. The moogle, perhaps, is luckier. It does not dream, it does not replay the same thing night after night in its wool-stuffed head. 

Unlike the moogle, Lulu _does_ dream. 

She dreamt of her parents, too long gone to be remembered. She dreamt of Chappu, about how he would laugh and tell her she looked grumpy and tease her for all it was worth. She dreamt of the laughter of children -- her own laughter, perhaps; hers and Yuna's and Chappu's and Wakka's -- as they ran along the beach and played amidst the ruins. She dreamt of the sea and the sky, and all the sunsets she has seen. She dreamt of the past. 

She dreamt of her departed summoner, lost in the caverns in the ravine of the Calm Lands. She dreamt of asking her forgiveness and knowing that it is granted. She dreamt of never losing a summoner again. 

Yuna is looking at her earnestly, those usually demure mismatched eyes now oddly inquisitive. 

"I dream of . . ." 

_ You_, she wants to say. Because most of all, she dreams of Yuna. She dreams of Yuna finding her own path and not being bent on one purpose that will only end with her sacrificing herself. She dreams of Yuna laughing, and that laughter not tinged with sorrow or restrained by duty. She dreams of Yuna living her own life, and not going down the road which everyone has assumed she would follow. 

Lulu dreams of Yuna being _happy_. Somehow she doesn't think that Yuna could understand that. 

"I dream of peace," she says instead. "For you and me and the rest of Spira." 

Yuna stirs at that, shaking her head slightly. "That's supposed to be _my_ dream," she says with a smile, but it fades away before it could etch itself more firmly upon her features. 

"Then what do you dream about, Yuna?" she asks, suddenly curious. What _does_ Yuna dream about? Vanquishing Sin? Returning hope to the people of Spira? Trying to be what her father was? 

"I dream of you," Yuna says shyly. Lulu blinks at that, surprised. "Of all of you," Yuna adds hastily, "-- you and Wakka and Kimahri and even Chappu. Of the boys going fishing in the morning and playing blitzball in the evening. Of the little girl who brings me flowers every day. And everyone . . . everyone else I haven't met." Yuna pauses, looking almost embarrassed at her sudden burst of words. "That's why I must become a summoner, Lulu. Please don't try stopping me anymore." Her voice dips lower and she bows her head, her silky strands of hair falling over her face like a mourner's veil. "You'll stay with me, won't you, Lulu? Until the end?" 

Lulu swallows the lump in her throat, forcing the words through. She would follow Yuna, wherever she would go, even without the girl asking her. "Yes, I will. I promise, Yuna." 

Yuna gives her a grateful smile and to Lulu, it is brilliant. It reminds her of the early morning sunshine as it is reflected on the waves, dappling upon the blue sea, tinted with the hopes of a thousand lifetimes. 

That is just how Yuna is. Selfless, determined. Strong in her conviction that she is doing something _right_. She catches hold of a shred of hope and freely shares it with everyone around her. A shaft of light to guide Spira to its future, made even brighter because of her ties to the past. 

But Yuna doesn't dream of the past. In those innocent depths of her mismatched gaze, she looks steadily forward, calmly accepting whatever that may come. Lulu could almost envy her for that. 

Lulu places the last stitch on the moogle's head, and absently pushes the red pom-pom and watches as it bounces to and fro. She gathers her skirt and stands up, and pulls the thin blanket from the edge of the bed, motioning for Yuna to lie down. The younger girl dutifully allows herself to be mothered, and Lulu slips the moogle into Yuna's arms before she drapes the covers over her. Yuna looks at the doll with some surprise before smiling and hugging it closer. 

"Good night, Yuna." 

"Good night, Lulu. Sweet dreams." 

Maybe she'll dream of a different future tonight.

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_In all honestly, this is here simply because I keep hearing Tidus yelling at Lulu "How could you!" at the Summoners' Sanctum at Home when he realises that Yuna has to sacrifice herself for the final summoning. I felt so awfully sorry for everyone in that scene . . . ._  
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End file.
